


Out Of Love

by chocorango



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon), Tangled (2010)
Genre: Am i right ladies, ban me for life, but like not for Life life, maybe like ban me for week, oh my god I've done This, quirin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 13:03:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21271493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocorango/pseuds/chocorango
Summary: Quirin is a simple man, a man of not many words, a man who loves his son with all his heart.And yet the past is inescapable, and Quirin knows he must hide away his son, for if the King were to know about him-the truth would come out. And the truth is something the King of Corona never could handle.Yes, this a Quirianna fic. What started out as crack makes so much sense lmao? Anyways #boycottfred2019 or at least #giveusbackmoviefred





	Out Of Love

He was a simple man.

Up at dawn, before the birds could even sing, he would go down to his fields and start working before everyone else. Hacking at the crops, piling wheelbarrows as high as he could, sparing the other villagers a heap of work, staring at the rising sun as the others woke slowly.

The other villagers loved him. He was a loyal man, a good man, a single father. He was hardworking and soft, to a fault, but he was also a quiet man.

The other villagers would speculate and wonder at his silence, but only he knew the truth.

Every day, when Quirin got up to the semi-darkness of his house, he would stop at his son’s room and reach to fluff his son’s hair. His son had dark hair, the same hair Quirin had had when he had been younger. His son had blue eyes, unnatural as they were, eyes that weren’t Quirin’s nor his son’s mother’s. And yet, Quirin knew, the stubbornness in his son’s eyes were _entirely_ his son’s mother’s.

As Quirin reached the fields, preparing to work his way through another day, he could only sigh. Working hard had always helped him cope, getting his mind off the explosions in the near distance that his son would cause every second or third day, getting his mind off the heavy responsibilities he had.

But mostly, mostly, getting his mind off his son’s mother, who had never been too far away.

Quirin worked to get his mind off the Queen.

-

“It’s the Queen again.”

The villagers of Old Corona looked up.

The Queen arrived far too often to Old Corona for it to be a coincidence, and despite her calm demeanor and her claim that the visit was for crop-related business only, people had started to wonder.

“I’ll tell you why she’s here,” one of the men in the village leaned on the rake he was holding, “It’s because of Quirin’s son.”

The people of the town slowly nodded in unison. Their village leader’s son, a small, gremlin-looking little boy of four years, had recently been in the habit of blowing up things. He was slowly becoming a real nuisance. It would make sense that the Queen would worry about the potential damage he might cause. The King and Queen were tasked with analyzing new threats and problems, and the Queen just wanted to see the boy and his father.

At least in that regard, the villagers weren’t too far off.

-

“Your Majesty,” the title felt cold and familiar in Quirin’s mouth, “You have to stop seeing Varian.”

Arianna slowly got up. In her bag, the vials and beakers she had commissioned for her son clinked together, and she couldn’t help but throw a quick glance at them to make sure they had not been broken.

“He’s my son too,” she exclaimed. Her first child had been stolen from her. She would not let the second one be taken as well.

“Arianna,” Quirin shut his eyes, not willing to meet the stubbornness that both she and his son had in their eyes, ‘’You’re the Queen. Varian is…he’s not…he’s not royalty.”

“Do you really think it matters to me if he’s royalty or not?” Arianna couldn’t believe her ears, “_He’s my son. _Quirin… please. I lost his sister, I lost Rapunzel, I- I can’t lose him, too.”

Whatever softness Quirin’s face had offered disappeared. He glanced at the Queen, his posture stiff and his jaw set.

“His half-sister, Arianna,” he shook his head, adamant, “What do think that makes him? I’ve dealt with royalty before, Arianna, I’ve dealt with the King…Varian- Varian is _nothing_ to them. He is nothing to the King. He doesn’t belong _anywhere_ near them.”

Arianna opened her mouth in fury, gripping the bag of vials until her knuckles turned white, trying to argue, trying to reason, but the sudden sound of horses drawing nearer stopped her short.

Arianna paled. The vials in her bag clinked yet again, and she closed her eyes.

“Quirin,” the carriages were loud, trampling leaves and turning over stones, making villagers scramble to the side.

The King was here.

“I think…I understand.”

Opening her eyes, Arianna glanced over at the man she truly loved; a simple man, a good man.

The look on Quirin’s face was something she would not soon forget.

-

One of the earliest memories Varian has is of a blurry, teary face pressed close to his. Of cold vials pressed in his hands, of a shaky voice imploring him to do his best. To make his father proud. And then, nothing more. Coldness, silence. His father hovering near the door, watching someone leave, oblivious to anything else.

Years later, he is cold as well. His lab is cold, he is hungry and tired, and a shaky voice pleads with him to listen. Varian stops midway, eyes hazy, thinking the prisoner he has held hostage sounds familiar somehow, sounds warm, but he refuses to listen. There is no warmth unless he frees his father. What other choice does he have? What other family does he have?

He continues working into the night, as the vials and beakers around him grow and grow, as his eyes become heavy and as his breath becomes unsteady. He thinks he hears someone say _I’m so sorry Varian _but he can’t be sure, he hasn’t slept in days.

It’s only when he hears the scuttling of feet that he stops hearing the pleading voice all together.

The Princess is here. There is nothing more to be done.

  * \- -

The dungeons are damp, buried underneath the ground, and the cold draft that hovers over the prisoners is sharper than any guillotine.

The prisoners are all sick, down here, all disoriented with visions, slipping in and out of consciousness with nothing more than themselves to keep company. Some have long withheld their grip on reality, and yet as night falls over Corona they all feel uneasy; something has happened, something has changed, and yet no one knows what.

Midnight strikes, and a hooded figure appears in the dungeons. The prisoners are all asleep, and the figure passes all the cells, a key gripped tight in its hands.

Down, to the lowest levels, the figure sees all the sleeping prisoners, and yet does not waver, does not stop. For now, there is only cell the figure wants.

Arianna stops in front of her son’s cell.

There is another man in the cell, something that makes her blood boil, yet Arianna knows he will not wake, for she has made sure to drug his food beforehand. A safety measure, as it is. She has planned everything, and she will not fail.

Arianna reaches for the bars of the cell. Her son is curled up on the floor, his back to her, his clothes dirty and threadbare, thin and defeated. His racoon- Arianna remembers his name, Ruddiger- is curled up against him, and Arianna is worried. He has been here for too long. 

The key turns in the lock, and Varian instantly shots up and turns around, his eyes bloodshot and tinged with suspicion.

The Queen and her son look at each other for the longest time, scanning each other in the complete darkness, frozen.

“Y-Your Majesty?” It has only been five months since the battle of Old Corona and yet- Arianna notes how ridiculously weak his voice sounds, faint with sickness and raspy with disuse.

Arianna takes a deep breath and removes the hood of her cloak. “Varian,” she says softly, and notices his eyes go wide with- recognition?- at her voice, “Come with me.”

“_What_,” Varian’s eyes turn cold, “Why would I- Why would I do that? Where will you take me? To the King? To the gallows?” He inhales and inches away from Arianna, Ruddiger in his arms, “_I don’t think so_, your highness.”

Arianna narrows her eyes.

“Varian,” she says, and something in her voice makes Varian flinch, makes him back away further, “You’ve done horrible things for your father. You’ve kidnapped me, you’ve tried to cause harm to others. Things like that- they won’t bring back your father, Varian. As much as you want him back-“

Arianna’s hands curl into fists. “As much as _I_ want him back,” she continues, her voice fading, “He won’t come back like this. Please. Just come with me.”

Varian does not answer, does not respond. Arianna can almost see his mind whirling, like a machine far too used to running at all times, surpassing day and night. It makes her ridiculously, amazingly, suddenly proud. Her son had always been far too clever for his own good, far too daring-

“What do you mean “as much as I want him back”?” Varian stares up at Arianna, and she knows he knows the answer. Varian knows why, has figured out why, and yet he wants to be proven wrong. For the first time in his life, he wants to fail at this one small, miniscule calculation. He wants to be wrong about the truth. 

“Varian,” she says, and though her arms feel weak, although her feet are slow, she has never felt so determined, so hopelessly free, “Varian, I- I am your mother.”

The silence in the dark cell is deafening. Varian stands up, shaking, full of anger, and Ruddiger chitters, trying to calm him down.

“_You’re lying_,” Varian hisses through clenched teeth, “My mother would’ve never- she wouldn’t be-“

“I’m not lying,” With a sigh, Arianna immediately reaches for her son in the dark, cupping his face with her hands, brushing aside his matted, dirty bangs, “Varian, I…I would never lie to you.”

Varian’s eyes are blue, cornflower-blue, unnaturally so, and Arianna marvels at how he has never lost these childish eyes in all those years, intelligent as they are, stubborn as they are.

“You left us,” Varian looks up at her, and he tries to stay angry, tries to fight back, but it has been so long since he has truly felt angry, and he is so very tired- “You-you just left me and Dad.”

“I know,” Arianna answers, and she pulls her son in close, running her hands through his hair, “I-I never wanted to. If the King would’ve known, Varian-”

“The-the King,” Varian stammers, and he looks behind Arianna, “If he knew- if he-“

“The King?” Arianna’s eyes suddenly shine in the darkness, and she takes her son’s hand, pulling him away from the dungeons, to the light, “The King is no longer the ruler of Corona.”

-

Dawn breaks fast, and the kingdom wakes up slowly, to a new era, to a new Queen. The new Queen listens with empathy, rebuilds the ruins, and runs the kingdom with the help of her son by her side, who builds and creates, and makes a kingdom much envied by all the Seven Kingdoms. Soon, the Queen knows, her daughter will be back, and the kingdom will be even grander. Nothing is perfect, nothing is new, and yet all is well. 

All is well, and the simple men and women of Corona are not forgotten. 

**Author's Note:**

> ……………
> 
> I had to do it to 'em.


End file.
